Bobbie’s Good Boy: the original spanking

I’m sure by now you’ve read excerpts from “Bobbie’s Good Boy“. Well, I was digging around my unpublished folders, trying to find something fun to share with you, and I discovered (well, re-discovered) the original version. Here’s our main character’s first (and second) spanking from Bobbie:

My time with Jane had improved my confidence with girls. Before her, I’d never have smiled at Bobbie and told her that if I was dating her, I’d let her spank me whenever she wanted, as hard as she wanted.

“You… would?”

“Why not? You want to do it, I want to let you do it, no one’s getting hurt that doesn’t want to get hurt.”

I could tell her mouth was dry. I too was actually very scared on the inside.

“I don’t believe it,” she said quietly.

“I could prove it to you, if you want.”

She just sat there on the sofa, dumbfounded. When it became clear after about thirty seconds that she wasn’t going to do anything or say anything, I got up from the chair and knelt next to her, then leaned over her lap, my cock hard against her thigh through my shorts and underwear.

I looked back at her. “It’s okay,” I said. “I like it.”

Bobbie lifted her hand, still incredulous, and brought it down halfheartedly. I liked it, but I barely felt it.

That was all she did, though, just soft-ish smacks, about six or seven.

No, this wouldn’t work.

I got up off her lap and pulled her down over mine. She squirmed and protested a little, but even though she was a big girl, I was still stronger. I pushed down her shorts and panties, baring her pale, cream-colored ass to the room, and started driving hard, ringing slaps into the bottoms of her cheeks, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, until she yelled “enough!”

I rested my hand on her bare ass. “I told you,” I said, “you can do it to me if you want. I won’t stop you.”

She got up off my lap, face flushed, then grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me up to my feet – I helped a little.

“Get into the bedroom,” she snapped. “All your clothes off. Now!”

I did as she said, standing next to the new dresser, waiting. But I didn’t have to wait long. She came into the bedroom, her hands behind her back, and sat on the bed. “Get over my lap.”

I didn’t bother to disguise my cock as I positioned myself so that when I settled into place, it was trapped between her thighs, which were still bare – she still had her tank-top on, but hadn’t bothered to replace her shorts or panties.

“So, you like crazy stuff,” she said, rubbing my back.

“Some of it.”

She slapped my ass hard a couple of times; my cock throbbed.

“Maybe you’ll like this, then.” I felt her spread apart my ass and felt a jolt of fear that she was going to use a pudding pop on me, but all I felt was the slick coldness of an ice cube as she eased it inside me. Then another.

She got two more of them in before I moaned. “Had enough?” Bobbie taunted.

I just moaned again, then jumped when I felt something cold and metallic on my ass. I looked back; Bobbie was holding the black plastic end of a metal spatula.

My heart was in my throat. I’d experimented with things around the house, and the metal spatula we had at home had hurt so much I could only smack myself about five times before I had to stop. And Bobbie didn’t look like she would stop just when it started to hurt.

There was a high-pitched zinging sound, followed almost immediately by a high-pitched squeal I was shocked to find coming from my own mouth.

Another zing. Another scream of agony.

“Got the point?”

“Yes!” I gasped. “Yes, I got it, I got it!”

“You don’t get to spank me,” she snapped, whacking me again, waiting for my wail to die down. “Not unless I say so.” Another whack, another shout. “You got it?”

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes!” Tears were leaking out of my eyes, the ice cubes in my ass forgotten except for the spreading coldness I was feeling, combating with the searing in my cheeks.

“Good.” She started spanking me with her hand then, fast and hard; when I looked back and saw how far back she was going for each stroke, the word wallop came into my mind. But only for an instant before her palm rebounded off where she’d hit me with the spatula and I coughed, crying hard now, my cock no longer stiff between her thighs as I pushed against them, trying to get away from Bobbie’s savage spanks.

And suddenly she stopped. Her hand was now gently rubbing my lower back, her breaths coming quick as she listened to me crying in pain.

“Spread your legs,” she urged.

And yes, metal spatulas hurt that much. Trust me.

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